


You Got Me Open (And I'm Not Afraid)

by sweeterthankarma



Category: The Bold Type
Genre: Background Sutton Brady/Jane Sloan, Boss/Employee Relationship, F/F, First Time, Open Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 07:52:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16301045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: “Your husband,” is the first thing Jane mumbles when Jacqueline slips between her dress, lifting the fabric and curving a hand up to touch her right where she wants it, and she immediately winces, wishing she didn’t speak.





	You Got Me Open (And I'm Not Afraid)

    “Your husband,” is the first thing Jane mumbles when Jacqueline slips between her dress, lifting the fabric and curving a hand up to touch her right where she wants it, and she immediately winces, wishing she didn’t speak. She’s writhing and moaning at the barest of skimmed fingers as Jacqueline always seems to give her far too much, but also far too little — and they’ve never even taken it this far, not yet— but Jane knows what she’s capable of. Her aura at work, her chic professionalism and stone-cold kindness, as contradicting as it can be, is enough to spin Jane in circles every day. She wants her, she wants  _ this  _ more than she can put into words, and she’s dreamt of this for months, for years, but it can’t happen, not this way.

Jane’s a lot of things, but she won’t be an accomplice to infidelity. She won’t be the other woman, especially not when the object of her affections is married to a man.

Jacqueline looks at her, unfazed, like she simply decided to bring up the fact that it was raining outside. She arches an eyebrow, tilts her head, and Jane fights to stop herself from lunging forward and kissing her already swollen lips. When this is over she’ll have to ask what brand of lipstick she’s wearing, it hasn’t smudged in the slightest. 

    “What about him?” Jacqueline asks, and Jane almost laughs. 

    “I…” she starts, and she doesn’t know where to go with her words. Does Jacqueline, a woman of such strong virtue and character, not have any objections to cheating? Is she really indifferent to hurting someone she loves, or at least is committed to, for her own pleasure? 

She’s always surprised Jane, in every aspect of her being, and if she’s being honest, Jane doesn’t recall hearing her speak too much about Ian, but she very well could have trained herself to tune out those kinds of conversations. God knows she’s done it before, when Sutton would ramble on and on about Richard and Jane would stare at her lips instead and wonder what it’d be like to bridge the gap between them on the sofa, to lay her hands on her best friends thighs and move her mouth so close she could taste her breath before giving in. Jane can give herself credit where it’s due; she’s _ very _ good at using her imagination.

She doesn’t need it now, though, not when Jacqueline’s standing between her legs, watching her as she squirms, especially when her hands meander back down to the apex of her thighs. Jane quickly moves to cover her hands with her own, stopping her.

    “Jacqueline,” Jane tries again. “You’re married.”

    “I am.”

    “You...you can’t cheat. Not on your husband, not with me. You shouldn’t cheat.” Jane damns herself and her moral compass, especially when Jacqueline’s manicured fingers are so close to where she wants them, if she’d just shut up and let her touch her and kiss her and —  _ s _ _ he can’t.  _

But maybe she can, because Jacqueline just shrugs and says, “I’m not cheating.”

Jane can’t bring herself to close her mouth that she’s well aware is hanging open, ajar, confused. She’s in sensory overload, truth be told, as Jacqueline is gorgeous and giving her attention in ways she never imagined she’d be lucky enough to really experience outside of her daydreams. She’s saying words that don’t make sense but regardless, all signs are pointing to the fact that Jacqueline wants her back fiercely. 

And apparently somehow she can have her, too, and somehow that’s moral, and Jane doesn’t really understand how that can work out but she’s overwhelmed and suddenly sure that she must be asleep, just about to be woken up by her alarm clock, doomed to go in to work and face Jacqueline after seeing and feeling this dream far too intensely. 

But no, this is real, undeniably so when Jane moves to brush her hair back and Jacqueline beats her to it, tucking stray strands behind her ear. She feels the warmth on her cheek when Jacqueline’s hand lingers there and she almost shivers. 

    “Explain, please,” Jane manages to say, and Jacqueline laughs at her breathlessness. She flushes, partly from her reaction, and even more so due to the fact that Jacqueline’s hand is still gentle on her jaw. 

    “Ian and I are in an open relationship,” Jacqueline says, and as soon as the words leave her mouth Jane feels a weight lift off her chest.  _ Holy shit. This could happen. She wants this to happen. This is allowed to happen. This can happen. This will happen.  _

__ “Okay,” is all Jane says in reply, and Jacqueline gives her a strange look at this, but she can’t stop herself now; she reaches for the back of Jacqueline’s neck, pulls her down for a kiss and relishes in the fact that this is their first real one — no mixed signals or ideas, no blurred lines, no hesitation. They both want this. They’re both on the same terms.

Simplicity’s never felt so sweet, and Jane’s had a lot of chaos in her life lately. 

There’s even more to be dealt with, but she lets all that fall to the side just as her dress does, too distracted with the movements of the woman before her. She needs to cancel dates with both Ben and Pinstripe, she has to decide what to do for her fertility plan, she has numerous interviews to do for the next article (although she’s sure Jacqueline could be kind enough to offer her an extension), she has to help Kat renovate her apartment and she has to get over Sutton now that Richard’s back in the equation. But when Jacqueline lets out a quiet, delicious whine when Jane slips her hands up her blouse, she frankly can’t give a single shit about Sutton. 

She’s always had multiple crushes, and they’ve never been sensible. Crushing on her much older, much more experienced boss was far worse than crushing on her best friend who was already taken, but at least that dream was coming to fruition.

    “So,” Jane breathes out when she finds the strength to break away from Jacqueline’s kiss. She needs air, and also she needs money, so she needs to ask this question. 

    “I’m not going to get fired after this, right? I can still work here?” 

She steels herself with her hands on Jacqueline’s bare shoulders, fingers dancing involuntarily against her collarbones; they’re right there, after all, and she can’t help herself now that she has the chance to finally touch this woman in every way she’s always wanted to. 

Jacqueline just laughs. “Yes, Jane.”

Jane arches her eyebrows at her. “Seriously? This is allowed?”

Jacqueline’s mouth twists devilishly at that, and Jane already knows the answer. Somehow, the situation becomes a thousand times better. Jane’s not a risk taker, not usually at least, but maybe she should be. She’s rushing on this high, feeling invincible, and even if she crashes (which she wholeheartedly expects herself to) she’ll embrace it. It’s worth it.

    “Sexy,” is all Jane says when Jacqueline tries to explain herself. She kisses her again, sighing into the release the simple touch of their lips brings her. She’s needed this, wanted this for  _ so long. _

    “So how many other employees have you done this with?” Jane asks, half flirting, half preparing herself to be let down. Her expectations are already too high; Jacqueline is stripping before her and if she gets any more lucky, she thinks she might die.

    “Zero,” Jacqueline replies with an effortless tug of her underwear, and Jane’s jaw honest to god drops. She kicks the fabric away with her heels, which she keeps on, and then there’s too much skin on skin for Jane to even worry about death— this is a fucking fantastic way to go, anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr under the same username, sweeterthankarma.


End file.
